The Ginger Child
by thatcrazygingernerdgirl
Summary: Augustin, or Tintin, Winchester is Dean's only son. Handed over by Clara at weeks old, he is brought up in America, a hunter through and through. But when a terrible accident, partly Dean's fault occurs, how will the brothers go on with Tintin gone forever? ON PAUSE, SORRY DUDES!


**AN:**

**Whoa guys, mega crossover of my two favourite fandoms! This was based on the tumblr posts of 'How to draw Dean Winchester' and 'How to Cosplay Dean Winchester' and also a competition between me and my friend on who could create the weirdest crossover. It's probably terrible but, what the hey?! Enjoy...**

* * *

"I'm sorry," she returned the sleeping child into his strong arms.

"Please! Please, Clara, don't do this to me!" Clara kissed him gently on the cheek.

"Dean, I love you more than everything, but my father is angry. It would put the child in danger if I brought him back. Please, Dean, you have to look after him. Promise me, mon cher," Dean swallowed back his tears and he tightened his hold on the child.

"I promise, Clara. I'll protect Augustin, no matter what. Just please, don't go. I need you!" Clara leaned across and kissed his and the sleeping child's forehead.

"I'm sorry, mon cher, but I have to. I want nothing more but to stay, but my Father would hurt the child, and I must win back his trust. I love you Dean," she gave him a final long, kiss and then stroked their son's small tufty hair. "Goodbye, my sweet. Remember, a little of me will always be Augustin, I will always be with you." She smiled and then stepped into the taxi, waving her delicate fingers at them both. "I'm sorry…" and then the car drove off, leaving Dean standing there, biting his lip, as the love of his life left him forever.

* * *

Sam looked up as the door of the motel opened.

"Hey, Dean-" he stopped. "Dean, what's that?" Sam got up from the chair and came over to his older brother, frowning slightly.

"My son," said Dean bluntly. Sam seemed unsure what to do with his face.

"Y-Your son?" he repeated.

"Uh-huh." Dean replied.

"What's his name?" asked Sam, thinking that just treating this as completely sane would maybe make it more normal.

"Augustin."

"Um. Great. Kind of long for a little kid like him though. How about we give him a nickname?" Dean shrugged, still staring ahead in slightly drunk way.

"Um… Tintin?" suggested Sam. Dean shrugged again but the child gurgled happily. "Tintin then? Look, Dean, do you want to lie down?" Sam took Tintin from his brother as he nodded.

"Yeah."

* * *

"Dad?" came the moan from the back. Dean muttered and tried to ignore it but soon enough it came again. "Daaaaaad?"

"What!" Dean yelled from the front of the car. "What is it?"

"How much longer?"

"Ten gajillion years."

"But Daaaa-"

"Can you just shut up for two minutes, please Tintin?" There was a disgruntled silence before:

"Uncle Saaaaaam?" At which point the elder Winchesters spun round and shouted in unison:

"GO TO SLEEP!"

Three hours later, they had arrived at Bobby's. Tintin was sleeping peacefully in the back of the Impala, and had been gently transferred to Bobby's couch. The boy was huddled under Dean's old jacket and a threadbare tartan blanket.

"Sleepin' like a baby," chuckled Dean. Bobby sighed.

"Yeah, but he ain't one no more," Dean looked up.

"What?" Bobby took another sip of his beer.

"You can't keep the poor kid in the dark for much longer. He's, what, eight now?" Dean nodded. "Even Sam knew by then."

"But this is Tintin we're talking about. He's a bit softer than Sam, which I have to admit, is kind of hard," He received a mega bitch-face from his brother. "Please Bobby, let him stay innocent for a little while longer." Bobby downed his beer and slammed it onto the sideboard.

"Look, Dean, don't get me wrong, he's a great kid and I love him, but you can't baby him now. Little boys ain't ignoramuses, I can tell you. When you two go gallivanting off like the idjits you are, he asks 'Grampa Bobby, where do Dad and Uncle Sam go?' and I have to say something stupid like 'On a business trip,' or 'visiting a relative.' And then you come back black and blue, with tempers worse than a frigging donkey, I'm the one that has to keep lying to him!" Bobby stamped over to the other side of the kitchen and opened another beer. "How many ideas do you think an old man like me has? Not a damn lot!" Dean came over to him and rested a hand on his shoulder.

"Bobby, I'm sorry. I really appreciate you keeping him here while we're on hunts, I do. I'll tell him tomorrow, okay? I swear," he crossed his heart. "It's too late to be worrying about it now." He yawned and tried to stifle it behind his hand.

"Get your asses to bed!" scolded Bobby playfully and Sam and Dean elbowed each other out the way as they reached the stairs, just as they had all those years ago.


End file.
